More than just the mask
by BritishAlien
Summary: Set during the Final Lair sequence. The consequences of Christine's actions and her choice. Hope you enjoy! xxx


More than the mask

-x-x-x-

The music box played its melancholic tune as she entered the lion's den once more. Raoul's soft comforting hand had led her from the Phantom's lair merely seconds earlier. A promise to leave and never to tell of the secrets they knew. But as Christine walked willingly to the side of her angel of music, she felt her conscience pull at her thoughts.

'Masquerade, paper faces on parade' His hand rose to the level of the mechanical monkey's eyes and covered its sculpted visage. 'Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you…' His beautiful voice tapered into a whisper. His hand slipped and the fallen angel fell back on to his knees. He sat staring at the music box and Christine could hear his mournful tears. He had not noticed her return as yet, which allowed Christine to watch her angel, as he had done for so many years now. She wanted to help him, comfort him, but Christine knew that she had caused this. It was her choice and her actions which had brought a broken man to his knees.

Suddenly, his head lifted from its sorrowful gaze and the Phantom turned slowly to see his angel; his Christine. An innocent smile stretched across his face, pulling his disfigured skin tight. His smile was endearing. She had never seen him smile before. She expected he hadn't done so for a long time such was his way. He pushed himself from the floor and as he did so he attempted to straighten his usually immaculate suit. Pushing the tails of his coat to hang in line with one another and patting down his jacket so that the lapels returned to his usual, neat standard. He stood up straight, hands linked behind his back. Christine could imagine him twiddling his thumbs or wringing his hands in anticipation of her voice. His eyes, his beautifully innocent eyes, looked expectantly to Christine. Reminding her of a lonely, scared little boy. Eager to know the fate which awaited him. Christine reached out to take the Phantom's hand. It took a while for him to respond, almost as if he knew what was coming and wished to postpone the inevitable. Eventually, the angel in hell placed his trembling hand in Christine's. A tear slipped down her cheek. With her other hand, she placed the Phantom's ring into his palm, making sure he did not pull away. His face fell when he saw what she was doing, but Christine had to do this, no matter how much it was tearing them both in two. Her spirit and her voice had to be free, but whether that could ever be was another question to be answered now.

The Phantom had placed the ring on her finger during his interruption of Don Juan Triumphant, just as he had planned when he forced the Opera upon them at the Masquerade. But it had only occurred to her as she ran from his lair that she should remove and return the ring to its rightful owner. When Christine had revealed that it was the Phantom behind the cloak and not Monsieur Piangi as was expected, she had seen the same look in his eyes as she saw now. Disbelief, anger and hurt. Then, at being presented to his world, not as its spectre as he had been for so long now, but a lion in its cage. Now, Christine could not quite decide whether it was because she was still there despite what had just happened or that she was returning a gift so precious it broke his heart at it being refused.

She felt his hands clasp tighter around her own. Her hands were enveloped in his; trapped. Not wanting to let go of his Christine, but pushing the ring away. A gift such as this once given, as a parting memory, should never be returned.

'Christine…' The Phantom's gaze focussed on the ring as what was not hidden by their entwined hands sparkled in the candlelight. Then he looked to Christine. Nobody had ever seen eyes like these before. Christine had lingered in his view so many times. Always lost, swimming, in his sight. But these eyes were different. They were not filled with menace or disbelief or insistence. They were dominated by excruciating pain and tormenting love encompassed in unparalleled hope. 'I love…you…'

He loved her. After all this time, the Phantom, a man who had hidden behind his mask and the status it had granted him over the Opera Populaire, abandoned his defences. He had told her the truth, which now made her choice impossible. Christine had returned to give the ring back, but it had suddenly become much more than that. The problem was that Christine saw a multitude of Phantoms when she looked to her angel.

There was the man who had killed Joseph Buquet and Monsieur Piangi. This was the Phantom that was seen by Monsieurs Andre and Firmin, the Opera's audience, the Corp de Ballet…Raoul. The monster was what they all saw. Christine could see him too. Every so often. This was the man who convinced her that her life with Raoul was what she longed for. One love, one lifetime, just as he had promised. That was what she yearned for and what she deserved. A world with no more night and no more talk of darkness.

But then there was the man who had been wronged and sought revenge on the people, nay, the society that had rejected him, left him to dwell in the desolation that they had created and to wallow in blood. None of this had been his fault. Suppose that life had given him the other side of the coin. Who knew, perhaps whoever the Phantom became without his deformity may have been the man that Christine wanted to spend her life with. A man who was passionate about forwarding man's achievements. A devotee of the arts and a man who adored all things beautiful in life and marvelled in them. All that held him back was what lay behind his mask. Christine could change that. It wasn't so impossible.

However, she also saw the man who wanted her for her voice. To use and bend to his will. She was the mask he wore. A prop to hide the man, the monster, underneath. The thin veneer between light and dark was so easily broken, always more in favour of the latter. In time, he would grow tired of her, discard her like all the others who he no longer deemed necessary. That was not his choice. And yet he had made her choose between Raoul and him. Another choice he should never have had the right to give. Life and death should not be held in the hands of men. It is too much power for man to control and the Phantom's control over his theatre and Christine would end one day and she would be nothing. Losing everything. Christine knew that she would never learn everything about the Phantom and his potential, everyone has their secrets, and yet if she knew one thing about life it was that you never realised what you had until it was gone. And she had Raoul. He had promised to love her every waking moment and to turn her head with talk of summertime. That, compared to a man who had called her his angel of music in one breath and a prying Pandora in the next, was what she had dreamt of in those years in the Corp de Ballet at the Opera Populaire. In the days before her guide and guardian spoke to her and combined her spirit and her voice. Raoul would hold and hide her from her angel's wrath.

But then there was the man who stood before her now, the man who pushed her away when she kissed him. The man who allowed them to be free. His hands were still pushing the ring away from him. A tear glistening in his eyes. Staring deep into hers, past the paper face and right into her heart. This man was more than the mask that defined him. The Phantom of the Opera had become him, everything he stood for, and Christine was his escape. Beneath that mask, the Phantom was an embodiment of what cruelty could do to distort the soul. The world showed no compassion to him. Perhaps if Christine showed this pitiful creature of darkness compassion…Perhaps…

She pulled her hand away from his light grip. Clasping the ring in her hands, she held it to her lips and kissed it. The ring was warm, held in the hands of those whose very blood seemed to ignite something…beyond human to reside in one another's company. Christine closed her eyes and drew the ring close to her heart. This was too hard. This hurt. She looked to it. It shone so brightly, like its true owner. The Phantom had touched her life in a way she had never thought possible after the death of her father. In the ring, Christine saw all that could be should she choose the Phantom and all she would lose by leaving Raoul. She looked to the Phantom once again. Those pleading eyes that both threatened and adored. There was hope in his eyes. Hope was such a terrible trait. It gave one solace in something that could never happen and yet it made those who deemed the action impossible a sense that it could work. Hope was cruel. She held the ring tighter, seeing her angel's eyes sparkle in the light of unkind hope.

With an almighty effort of her will, she pushed the ring into the Phantom's still lingering hand. As her hand fell onto his and the ring slipped from her fingers, Christine felt her angel drop. The weight of lost hope and regret now sat heavily upon his shoulders. The truth isn't what he wanted to see. He had always told her that in the dark it is easy to pretend that the truth is what it ought to be. But now, the truth showed its true potential, its true light. He looked to her eyes once more. His hands reaching for her face, to hold and embrace her, but Christine had to turn away or she would never be free. The Phantom managed to cling on to her hand as she left the chamber, his touch floating upon her skin. As she moved away, his hands slipped from her arm and her angel fell to the floor.

Christine ran. Pulling up her skirts so as not to trip on the uneven surface of the Phantom's lair. Running along a small corridor, all cobblestones and candelabras, to find her future. She found Raoul standing on the bank of the underground lake waiting for her. The small boat was bobbing silently in the cool water and its punt was lying across it where the Phantom had discarded it not so long ago. She could see it in Raoul's eyes that he understood what she had done. That it had to be done. She had to show the Phantom that a man should not be defined by his deformities, whether physical or psychological, but by how he earned them and how he outlives them. The Phantom had lived beyond them and deserved respect for doing so. His love was what made him beautiful.

Raoul helped her into the boat reminding Christine of how the Phantom had aided her. Whenever she had sat in this boat, whether the first time she had seen her angel of music or descending past the point of no return, she had always been cared for. Now she was leaving for the last time with Raoul, a man where everywhere she went he would go too.

The boat eased from the shore. Raoul gripping the punt and manoeuvring them back to their new lives. The sound of voices could now be heard getting nearer. The society that had pushed the Phantom away was drawing closer. Christine imagined him on his knees, where she had dragged him to, feeling every possible tortuous emotion. They would find him and he would be made to pay for what he had done. She was frightened for him. In times of trouble, her angel of music had always inspired her to sing. He said that music can caress you and open up your mind in a darkness that you know you cannot fight. The music of the night had always been her comfort. She embraced it.

'Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime.' This was what she had chosen, on top of the Opera House, when she agreed to Raoul's proposal, a few moments ago. She was going to live her life away from the terrors which had plagued the Opera Populaire…with Raoul.

'Say the word and I will follow you…' Raoul continued. He was her guiding light. Her guardian angel. They would be together, always.

'Share each day with me, each night, each morning…'

Suddenly, Christine heard a voice ring out against the world. The last gasp of a beautiful life from a beautiful mind, content to dwell in the world he and Christine had created for one another.

'You alone can make my song take flight…It's over now the music…of…the…night…' The Phantom would never forget her and Christine would not allow herself to forget her angel of music as he brought every waking moment to life with his music.

-x-x-x-

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed :D

Author's note: This performances of the Phantom and Christine are based on the traits of a multitude of Phantoms and a host of Christines. I hope you enjoyed reading. X


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